


halfsies?

by arleaux



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi has no idea what's coming for him, April Fool's Day Crack-Fest, Bo I am so sorry, M/M, Regular guy Akaashi, Stripper Bokuto, but make it March to relieve you of angst, but neither does Bo, shits and giggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arleaux/pseuds/arleaux
Summary: Bokuto Koutarou, a stripper with a patchy history of costumes too convincing for his own good, finally gets a break when he discovers an old pizza guy uniform in the backrooms of his club. He's determined to deliver the performance of his life when a client offers him a large sum of cash for his excellent new gig.That was his most encouraging offer yet. What could go wrong?Everything, because he shows up to the wrong apartment.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	halfsies?

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for April Fools Day that I've decided to upload in March in preparation for my longfic.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This isn't written to be an explicit work. Check out [this playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4nywQv9UXdTMUDlY8uU6PZ?si=iYsquqWpQ1KOt8kU9Od6og&utm_source=copy-link) for the relevant songs. 
> 
> Yen is Japan's only currency. I'm using dollars as not to confuse anyone regarding magnitude/scale. However, 15 dollars is 1600 yen, for reference.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy.

_Untz, untz, untz, untz._

"Oh my god, will you turn that off, Atsumu? I have you DJ for five minutes and you play some flapjack robot shit." 

"Whaddaya mean? This track killed it at my cousins eighteenth birthday party, ya hurt me Kuroo."

"Dude, no." 

Atsumu sulkingly slipped out the CD from the player and popped in the regular club mix. The club was always busy on Saturdays, so that's when they had to perform at their very best. Yes, Saturdays: the night when the most people are looking for love and the day the most people have money to spend. Good music could bring in an extra two thousand a night, which was insane in the eyes of other business owners.   
  
Not when Kuroo, the boss of the joint, had the world's most dedicated staff; both the people behind the scenes and the dancers. As he pulled the last chair off the table, the rest of his employees flew through the door. They all issued him a good evening, passively, and signed in using their key cards for the locker room. The energy in the club was only relaxed when it first opens at six, and it usually took another hour to get the night started smoothly.

Content with how set up was going, Kuroo relaxed in his office. While he sat there, someone knocked on the other side of the door.

"Come in!" Kuroo called out. 

At the reply, Kuroo's employee of the month opened up the door. "Good evening, Mr. Boss Man." 

"Thought we talked about the nickname already. You're a stripper, not a henchman." 

"Okay, and? Strippers can totally be henchmen. Have you seen the new High Speed and Enraged? Because that shit was _crazy."_ Bokuto leaned against the door and popped a couple of vitamins into his mouth. Kuroo reminded Bokuto that he had a strip club of questionable size to run, so he didn't have the time. Bokuto understood Kuroo's variety when it came to lifestyle, as he too was a busy guy himself. He sat himself down and tossed a bag he had slinging over his shoulder. 

Bokuto visited Kuroo's office to drop off the props he had borrowed from the weekend before: a stethoscope and a doctor's uniform, but just the coat. Apparently, Kuroo had purchased a real stethoscope, one of those fancy Littmann instruments and, as Bokuto put it, he heard his client's heart pumping like a semi-broken fuel tank at the gas station. Kuroo's club was undoubtedly professional and every staff-member on board desired only the best for their guests, but sometimes, Bokuto felt like he was actually playing the part of his gig except moderately naked.

"I can't be diagnosing heart arrhythmias with my ass hanging out of a thong I bought from Ross. I'm sorry, Kuroo."

"It's alright," Kuroo reassured. He pulled up the screen of his laptop and marked off inventory. "How was the other gig, though? Did it go well?"

"Kind of.." 

"So?"

"No, Kuroo! It did _not_ go well, I got pulled to the side on my way there to perform CPR on an old couple. I'm not even certified! Dude, I need a new role or something. Either that or less impressive props." Kuroo scoffed at Bokuto's request, and to that he crossed his arms and gave him a headstrong nod.   
  
"Bo, c'mon. You're the only one who can pull off the firefighter role." 

Bokuto thought for a moment, then an idea came to mind. "What about Iwaizumi?" 

"Bro, Iwaizumi Hajime cannot dance. Of course he'd be issuing CPR, because he'd _kill_ them." 

One of the staff peered through the door. "Ah, so we're bullying Iwa now are we?" 

"Good evening Oikawa," Kuroo greeted. "And no, just stating facts. We're discussing new roles to play for the strippers that are hired for events. Bokuto doesn't want to do the firefighter one, or the doctor one for that matter."  
  
"I mean, you usually revolve around four, right? What's the rush?" 

"Because it's Saturday," Kuroo explained. "And Saturday means.."

"Lots of money," Bokuto and Oikawa both droned simultaneously. 

Kuroo nodded happily and returned to his laptop to delete the firefighter column on the spreadsheet. "Damn, what a loss."

"Yes," Oikawa agreed. "I too will miss those absolutely outrageous Smokey Bear Bokuto bitties." He pointed to Bokuto like the fictional bear did in the 'Only You' posters they had for some reason bought for the act. Bokuto snickered and winked, but sadly winked. After all, it was a devastating loss. 

Kuroo closed his laptop. "Alright.. so you still have the sports star and bartender role—great job at that grad party, by the way—but we need some variety. Something classic but unexpected." While he brainstormed, Bokuto checked his phone and hit up a few friends for some ideas. He had been thinking of a few alternatives on the way to the club, but he thought more about how much money would come from his own pocket if he went with them. Bokuto was pretty sure Kuroo wasn't keen on on taking a chunk out of the budget just to tailor a corset for a single dancer. 

"Kuroo.. remember that music video that one guy had two years ago? We still have props in the backroom." Oikawa proposed, and tilted his head towards the locked door by the office. Kuroo lit up and slid from his swivel chair. "Perfect! Bo, go check the backroom and find something you're more comfortable roleplaying. We need to find an alternative by like tonight." 

"Can do," Bokuto said. Kuroo thanked Oikawa for the idea and tossed Bokuto the keys. Bokuto caught with grace and left for the backroom. 

The backroom was filled to the brim with all sorts of stuff, from chairs to lightsabers with dead batteries. He had to shuffle his way around some stuff before getting to a pile of old props and costumes. Impatiently, he sifted through the pile and set aside what intrigued him. Some things were heavier than others, making him slightly tired before the night even started. All the labor made him a bit peckish. 

_Geez, I really should have had that leftover pizza in the fridge before I left._ He didn't mind it cold; sometimes, in fact, he preferred it better that way. 

"Hold up. Hold up hold up hold up. Pizza guy. Oh my god Bo you're a fucking genius!" He commented to himself. The music video had a pizza guy get pulled into the club during the song's opening, but where could they have left the props? 

He checked around some more, and under a cupboard he found an unused cardboard pizza box, strapped delivery bag, and a dusty hat from Mariano's. "Perfect," he pulled the items out and returned to the office.

"Yo guys, look what _I_ found.."  
  
"Oh my god. No way," Kuroo muttered in awe. Oikawa jumped off Kuroos desk and clapped his hands. "What could've spurred such an immaculate idea over there?"

"Got hungry and it just came to me. I know, you can start clapping again." Bokuto took a bow while Kuroo marked off inventory. 

"Alright, I think this will work," Kuroo said, "we'll just go with the three fits for tonight. I got confidence in this one; you got the college boy charm and biggest shoulder span in this whole damned place. They're gonna lose it over you." Oikawa agreed with Kuroo emphatically, then grabbed Bokuto to drag him to the dressing room for the formal pizza man get-up. 

Once dressed and away from the clutches of old ladies who got the early bird drinks at the bar area, he decided to take pictures for the club portfolio and send them to Kuroo to put on their social media fleet. The red polo did a horrible job containing his chest, but it was just what he needed to define it. He posed with one part of his hip slightly turned inward to emphasize his thick build and nicely defined obliques.

Bokuto worked hard for his physique. He went to the gym almost four times a week and even took up yoga to work on his flexibility. Also, dancing was an important part of the job, so he practiced diligently to get his routine right. He had been getting employee of the month since April, and he tried his best to make sure it wasn't just because his crazy costumes but his performance as well. 

For the second picture, he posed with the box and made sure to get his biceps at a flattering angle. He wasn't sure how he'd use that prop in his routine, but he'd incorporate it somehow. Once satisfied with how the pictures turned out, he uploaded them and waited for Kuroo to approve the images. 

He flexed his arms one more time before leaving the bathroom, where the other staff who were waiting to wash their hands stared sideways at the excited dancer. Not even fifteen minutes later and after they decided on the caption 'the new Spicy Sausage Supreme, Hot and Ready at 011-XXX-XXX!', Bokuto received an elated text from Kuroo.

 **Boss man vroomm, 7:19 -** GET OVER HERE YOU DEXTEROUS HUNK I HAVE AN ASSIGNMENT FOR YOU

Roger. **Sent**

He grabbed his wallet and headed to the office. Kuroo was still on the phone when he walked in, so he waited. "Right, he'll be there shortly. yes, you can send it through online. Right then thank you sir and you have an excellent night." He hung up and sped over to Bokuto. "Dude, they're paying the club four hundred and eighty USD for you to dance at some house tonight. That's twice the rate we usually do; practically insane." 

"So, are we accepting then?"

"Do you want to?"

"I'm already dressed and the pizza bag rests in my hand as we waste some precious time. Duh."

"Sweet," Kuroo pulled a sticky note from his desk and handed it to Bokuto, "address. It's only an hour long gig but feel free to take the rest of the night off after." Bokuto folded the note carefully as not to damage the ink. He looked to Kuroo, thanked him for the gig, and went to wish his favorite staff good night before heading out of the club. 

He shouted to the bar area where Oikawa and Atsumu were having some inadvertently deep conversation that no one would understand except for them. "Alright guys, I'm off! Gotta love Saturdays." 

"Godspeed," they chanted. Bokuto saluted with his first two fingers and left the club. 

He worked his way through the line waiting outside of the establishment, receiving a few whistles as he passed by. "Looking good, Bokuto-kun!" A regular commented. A few clubgoers shouted in agreement. He thanked them graciously and stepped into the white taxi waiting by the curb. 

"Where to?" The driver asked. Bokuto unfolded the sticky note and read over it a few times. Kuroo was a great boss, but he couldn't use decent penmanship no matter how much money a patron could slide forward. The street apartment number could be 124 just as much as 129 or 147. He decided to give one of them a shot. Ultimately, the driver would drop him off at the same place no matter what he used.

"129 Akane Station, please." 

The driver plugged in the address to his GPS, Bokuto snapped on his seat belt, and the taxi rolled away. The wheels rolled smoothly amidst the nightlife scene. Relaxed, Bokuto informed Kuroo that he was on his way, and waited a few minutes before shutting his phone off. The key to being a devoted employee was that you put your all into your craft; that meant no distractions. Though, he made the mistake of taking four hundred pictures and draining his battery to the point of only the most basic functions. Bokuto simply sat back and enjoyed the night's ambience and the feeling of the running road under his feet. 

When the taxi reached its destination, Bokuto poked his head from the window. This was a rather quiet part of town, and 129 Akane Station appeared to belong to an apartment complex with most of its lights off except for one. Naturally, he inferred that it was where his client was waiting. Bokuto tipped the driver and skipped up to the entrance of the building. Quickly, he popped on his baseball cap and tucked the box between his arm and chest to pull open the glass door. 

"Hello, sir," a receptionist at the small desk between the elevators greeted. 

"Hi, I'm looking for apartment 129, where can I find that?" He had decided to shoot for 129 first.

"Are you making a delivery?" She asked. Bokuto bit the inside of his lip as he thought.

"...Technically." 

She put down her pen. "Great, I had received a call earlier about a deliveryman arriving at the lobby. Take the left elevator and go four floors up, then at the end of the hall is 129. Have a good day."

He thanked her and tipped his hat at a slight angle. As he walked to the elevator, he took a look around the space. It wasn't over the top extravagant, and a rather cozy apartment complex. It didn't seem like a place to raise a family, as he saw barely any schools on the way to the place. The apartment was located in the heart of the college community. It made him wonder if the people who hired him were around his age. 

He stepped into the elevator and pressed in the button for floor four. The elevator music had the same vibe as the lobby. "Hm, I can perform to this." He shuffled his feet a tad to get used to the beat, but stopped when the elevator abruptly halted to open up for the people waiting to enter from the second floor. 

"Good evening," the passerby said.

"Hi."

They stood aimlessly for ten seconds before the door opened and Bokuto slid out. 

"Have a nice day!" Bokuto bellowed to the other before the door closed. He then went right and walked to the end of the hall. The cement floors of the hallway made the area cold, so he hoped the inside of the place was warmer for his performance. Dancing in cold rooms gave him goosebumps along his arms and shoulders, which was bad for focusing on the client. 

He took a deep breath and stepped in front of the door, but he didn't ring it yet. Bokuto wanted to warm up first, so he did a short set of lunges and wiggled side to side. Then, he was ready to give his client the time of their life. 

He rang the doorbell with a firm press. "Pizza's here," he announced with a chime at the end that he thought would communicate his so-called message. The door swung open to reveal a guy around his age, but definitely more tired. Maybe he should have brought coffee instead of a pizza box. 

He looked at Bokuto, quizzically. At the odd stare, Bokuto nervously adjusted the pizza box in his hands. He looked down and saw that his client was carrying boxes as well; moving boxes and a collapsible laundry hamper.

"Hi," he started.

"Hello."

"You order a spicy sausage supreme? Hot and ready? Mariano’s favorite pizza guy Bokuto is in the house! "

"Yes, with extra cheese, thank you. Do you mind setting it down on the table in my living room?" He asked. The man push the opening wider so Bokuto could step into the apartment. "The table's over there, if you will." 

Bokuto entered the apartment and placed the box on the table. The client's behavior confused him greatly. He never brought actual food as a prop, but it probably would have been a good idea to if they were paying him a good week of his rent for two hours of his time. "I'll.. be back with some cash, sir, just give me a moment," the client headed off in another room. 

_Wow, the guy has even more cash to throw at me..am I really all that? Oh my god, it's a sign. I'll bring it up to Kuroo about going full-time. This is an honor. Is it normal to be this excited? It's an exciting thing, so it should be._

Quickly, he pulled out the Beats Pill that the club issued him when he first started taking up gigs at other locations. He set it next to the box and ensured that it was connected to his phone. Bokuto hurried to get in the zone and perfect his smolder. He accessed his inner sensuality and shot it through his lustrous, squinted stare. 

_One, two. One, two._

The client walked back into the room with a roll of bills more crumpled than Bokuto would've imagined them to be, but Bokuto shot him a confident smirk accompanied with some teeth. He pressed play. Akon was always his go-to, and for this gig it was perfect. Konvict Muzik was an intro like no other; he saw the shock factor on the client's face.

Bokuto congratulated himself in his head for picking out such a legendary beat. 

The man backed up by a few inches and his back lightly brushed against the wall. It was probably his first time paying for a gig, Bokuto understood that; he'd worked a few events where the attendees were a bit shy. They warmed up to him, though. Him and his "devastatingly bodacious bod", according to the three reviews on Google recommending him. He slowly swayed his hips back and forth, moving his hands up his body to trigger a reaction from his client. 

He was _winding_ and _grinding_ up on the floor. The creaky, carpeted floor. 

"H-hey man—"

"Shhh, it's okay babe, let me do the work," he hushed. "I got here before the forty-five minute discount, right? No.. _refunds._ " He slowly pulled up his polo to reveal his abdomen in the most melodramatic way he could muster, and pulled the shirt over his head as he danced in place. Bokut threw it behind him and he heard a light thud as it landed on the floor. He moved to roll both hands through his hair, angle his head, and posed to the beat. 

He strutted to the client, and every step dripped with seduction. The walk was an enjoyable part of his work. He got to observe the look in his client's eyes before "things happen", which he thought was similar to before and after photos. "Before and after Bokuto Koutarou" would be excellent promotional content. Kuroo would love it. 

Gently, he led his client to the other side of the sofa. "Eyes on me," he spoke, and watched as the man sank into his seat. 

All was going well, it seemed. Bokuto wasn't new to the whole 'I want to be adventurous and now I don't know what I'm doing' routine. Sometimes, that was what he was there for, to teach people. The client clearly had no clue what was going on, so Bokuto prided himself in being the gateway to something he hoped the man will consider again. He placed on boot on the coffee table, then the other, using it as a makeshift stage. It had enough space to do for elaborate moves after he slid the pizza box to the side. 

Standing up, he started with simple club moves. Some flashy ones were performed to catch the attention of the viewer, but the rest of them were a transition to his more relaxed moves. He did a twirl on the table and stopped himself with a right foot stance, eyes staring straight down at the unreadable face that studied him in return. Whatever magic Akon put forth was working, because the unreadable guy struggled to look away. Curious, Bokuto capitalized on those eyes that were undoubtedly controlled by his influence. 

But then the client looked left and right as Bokuto was doing his thing. _Nervous? Flustered? Don't be._ It was time for a fan favorite.

Like a kite, his rip-off pants flew with the wind of the ceiling fan and he posed once again to the beat. The other's breath visibly hitched, showing that he was unprepared for the pizza man's main course. _You still got it, you Adonis. Keep up the smolder._

The client sank lower into the couch when Bokuto stepped of the coffee table and planted himself in front of his face. Bokuto grabbed his hand and smacked it against his iron stomach. "Special offer. For you, you can touch."

He rolled his abs as the outro to the song played out. The client's palm gently grazed his skin, mainly to pull back his hand and lock his elbow back to his side. 

_Very odd. Extremely odd. What's up with this dude?_

Bokuto rolled back his shoulders for a nice, moving silhouette. Was his performance off? There's no way this guy couldn't be impressed. Bokuto's seen videos all over their company page of fans enjoying similar routines. If he was pouring out his heart and soul into his back-breaking work, can't the other at least understand that? He raised a brow in disbelief and masked that disappointment with a dishy smile. 

Bokuto had a vision outside of the tacky costume and latex shorts, but the looks his client had been giving him made him question his ability to attain it. He was already Employee of the Month, but he wondered if he could really go for Employee of the Year if his biggest client yet wasn't impressed. 

Two-thirds of the song had already passed, and the client was less stiff. Both eyes were on him, but Bokuto struggled to see what lied behind them. He did a hip roll on his left side, and switched to the right afterwards. He wasn't sure how booty dips worked on coffee tables, but he gave it his best effort and shot back up before he had the chance to tip the entire thing over. 

He winked. If the world was paused and he could do anything at that moment, he wouldn't have hesitate to stick his tongue out at the guy.

What's next? Another booty dip? Full-body twirls? For a split second, Bokuto considered utilizing his glutes to their full potential, but it was a last ditch effort for the most desperate of times. When the rap switched to the chorus of the song, he hopped off the coffee table. Bokuto needed to keep the client guessing, and this powerhouse move was a game enhancer: the worm. 

He darted to the floor, hands first, kicked his legs up, and moved so that his pelvis steadily met the ground. As Bokuto completed the move, he repeated it, but went faster so that his body rolled like a series of waves against the floor. The song had transitioned to Pony, another track belonging to his personal Bible, also known as his private practice playlist. 

Bokuto's gold gaze connected with his client's. Did he seem to be enjoying himself? Did he smile to show his interest?

He smirked. It was a real smirk, not one of those fake squirms of a smile. However, when he caught Bokuto look up at him his face returned to the same indifference it had expressed previously. Bokuto endeavored to keep up the flavor, so he performed the worm in reverse. He sneakers almost hit the lamp illuminating the room, but he was an efficient dancer with a fast reaction time. Once he felt like he'd completed enough of those, he propelled himself upwards and strode back to the couch. He licked his teeth and alternated the position of his arms as he made his way over. Strong strategy in swelling the intensity. 

Bokuto halted his stride. He was back to his original position; in line and inches apart from his client. He heard the beat escalate, so he leaned over, bent a knee, and ran both hands from the sides of his kneecaps to his upper thigh as he returned to an upwards stance. Bokuto liked performing this one because it made shaving his legs feel worth it. He then did a twirl for a stylish twist, and got close enough to feel his client's breathe on his collarbone. 

"Last chance," he murmured. The client gulped, and within earshot Bokuto could've sworn he heard a stomach growl. Everyone got hungry when they're anxious, it was more polite to ignore it. Though, he thought it was out of etiquette to skip meals before watching his performance, primarily because if one pays 480 bucks to see a stripper, they should at least feel present during the experience and not mentally whisked away by a sandwich.

He pumped is shoulders to the beat and shifted the vibe to slow club dances. _Now or never, buddy boy. Are you trying to participate or not?_

Then, the unthinkable finally happened. His client moved. Bokuto first saw his arm shift under that red hoodie he wore, but then he performed a complete movement, cash in hand. The client clutched the cash firmly, and cautiously leaned over to make contact. He pushed all that cash under the band of Bokuto's shorts. 

Bokuto was so elated that he almost couldn't hide it. Luckily, he didn't break character. All of those ridiculous trials for the perfect costume weren't in vain. The stripper pizza guy role was superior; it was the beginning of his prophecy.

He dropped into a split and his thighs hit the floor. This was more of a self-indulgent move. He looked up.

His client pressed himself into the seat as if he boarded a roller coaster for the third time that evening. 

_Dude. This is the last, last straw. Make up your mind before Partitio—_

A knock on the door interrupted their little session. Bokuto smiled outwardly, but he let out an annoyed huff through his nostrils. He thought that visitors couldn't pick a worse time to visit this dude. Though, visitors could be party-ers invited for a good time. He was still mid-split, so he scrambled back up. The client was still as stone, so Bokuto shrugged at him. "Do.. you want me to open the door?" 

"Yes. Yes please."

He turned and headed over to the entrance. There was nothing that could throw him off his game, and he wouldn't let anyone interfere with his vision. 

But on second thought, there was one thing. Inside a small compartment of Bokuto's mind, there was one thing that he imagined would lead to catastrophe. What stood idly in front of him was that one thing. 

"Hello. You ordered a spicy sausage supreme?"

No, Bokuto didn't, but his client did, hence why he was there. He almost refuted, but then the realization hit him like his legs did the carpet a moment ago. That man ordered a spicy sausage supreme with extra cheese.

_Extra._

_Cheese._

_Oh my god._

_Is this..?_

He looked at the pizza man, then back to his client; to the pizza man, to the client. The client looked at him the same way he'd been doing so for as long as Bokuto had been there. It wasn't shyness, it was utter confusion. Bokuto and him were twinning now. The stripper matched a client for the first time in months, except it was the face of calculus instead of prop glasses. 

For the last time, he turned back to the pizza man and pulled crumpled bills from the band of his shorts. Bokuto said nothing as he, still essentially nude in his shorts, yanked the pizza box away but issued a cordial nod as thanks for the pizza man's service. That guy had passed the forty-five minute delivery cutoff, but Bokuto's embarrassment impeded on his money saving intuitions.

"So.. you ordered a pizza?"

"I did.."

"For 480 dollars?"

"Um no, for 14.99,” he told him. “With _wings_." 

Bokuto lifted the lid of the box and took a whiff. “. .Garlic parmesan?” 

“Yes, sir.”

"I see," Bokuto commented. He placed the box on top of the ex-stage. "So, um, my bad. Sir, I'm terribly sorry. Please don't sue me. And hey, look, I even paid the pizza guy with.. oh. Your bills."

This was terribly bad for the club. Guilt panged in the bottom of Bokuto's stomach and his heart raced. He'd never considered fleeing the country before, but he'd always thought North America was pretty neat. New York style pizza, apparently, was pretty good and if he was lucky he could become an actor and work part time at those fancy steak restaurants. Becoming dust and drifting off into the wind was another big contender. 

"So, I can pay you back, no problem. This looks really bad, I know, however I am a professional stripper and this is an extremely big misunderstanding. Hence..my ass being in your face for the past seven minutes. Um..what else..as an apology my club has these really cool scratch offs and we hand out prizes for the winners! Let's talk, or form a compromise or something. Just don't call security."

The client stood from the couch and shook his head. He looked frazzled, but Bokuto's elaboration cleared up some of the confusion. "It's alright," he breathed. "But when you told me 'last chance' I genuinely thought it was my _last chance._ Couldn't you have worded it any other way? If that man didn't come to the door, do you know what could've happened? I was preparing myself to weaponize the leg of my couch."

"Mister—"

"It's Akaashi."

"Akaashi, please. I'm a lover, not a fighter." 

"I'm not a fighter, either."

"So you're a lover, then?"

"I am a hungry college student moving out of his dorm for the first time and running of a negative amount of sleep. It's borderline fighter." 

Bokuto agreed on the statement. Moving time is always rough. "Well, thank you for not rendering me unconscious. It means a lot, Akaashi."

"You're welcome..? And, uh, keep the money."

"Why?"

"I got away with a free strip tease and the cash I coerced myself into stuffing into your belt didn't even land in your pocket. You're very talented, so thank you for the effort."

"Aha, _you're_ welcome," Bokuto paralleled. "Now, let's hug it out."

"I'd prefer we not," Akaashi stated honestly. "I'm jittery from the gallon of iced tea I had before opening the door. And I'm an awkward hugger. And you're naked."

"That I am. What would you prefer instead?"

"A handshake?" Akaashi suggested. Bokuto gave him a fist bump. "There we go. So, we're on good terms, now?"

"Somewhat, but I'm sorry on my account too. Next time I'll look up 'quick and tasty' instead of 'hot and ready' when ordering my pizza. I don't think I'll survive a coincidence the second time around."

"No way. Absolutely not." He pointed to Akaashi's order. "My costume was _inspired_ by that masterpiece, Akaashi. No joke."

"Ah," Akaashi looked down at his fingers, but returned his look at Bokuto with an idea. "If you want, then.." He trailed. Bokuto smiled, and raised a hand that implied his understanding.

"Halfsies?"

"Sure?" He responded tentatively. Breaking bread—or cheese—with Akaashi sounded nice. Akaashi, in fact, was being awfully nice for what had perspired. The offer warmed Bokuto's heart, but then he recalled that a whole other client had been waiting for him longer than they had anticipated. 

"Damn, I'd really love to but I have to check 124. I have an appointment." It was disappointing, as Bokuto really had nothing to do after that. 

"Well, I can wait," Akaashi murmured. "You mentioned that the pizza tasted better cold, right?"

"Yeah, but are you sure?"

"I'm sure. And when you smacked my hand on your abdomen I heard your stomach growl as well. I'm not the only one famished right now, apparently."

Was he really that hungry? Bokuto forgot all about his cravings during the dance. "Okay. .fine. I'll be back in an hour. Don't wait for me if you get too hungry." He picked up the articles of clothing that he scattered around Akaashi's barely furnished living room and hastily shuffled his shirt over his back. Buttoning up the rip-off pants was tedious, but he got it done pretty quickly. 

Once he finished buttoning those pants and shooting a few awkward glances with Akaashi as he watched from behind his countertops, Bokuto pulled his loathed sticky note from his back pocket. He brought to Akaashi and placed it on the counter. "Akaashi, what number do you think this is?"

"I think that's definitely 124."

"Really? You think so?"

"Well, it's obviously not 129," he hinted. "See the way the tail-end sticks out? That's a 4, I'm certain of it."

"But it's _round_..and a circle," Bokuto bellowed. Akaashi made a tsk noise and pointed a firm finger at the number. "Look. The bottom right part cuts into a triangle. If my year of geometry back in high school hasn't failed me yet, then that's an entire polygon, Bokuto-san." Akaashi took the heavily folded slip of paper and stuck it to his fridge. 

"Why'd you do that?" Bokuto asked. 

“For memories of my first day here at this apartment?” Akaashi replied. “I’m telling my mom about you. She’ll want to hear about this.”

”Huh.”

”..Yeah.”

As he slid his cap back on and gathered his things, which included the fake pizza box he had abandoned long ago, he tipped his cap at Akaashi, his former client and current host of the two-person pizza dinner. "I call the slice with the crust bubble on it," he called out, before closing the door and visiting 124. Finally alone in his apartment, Akaashi went to the kitchen to place the pizza box in the fridge. His unnecessarily large sigh was muffled over the sound of the refrigerator buzzing. 

Meanwhile, Bokuto delivered what he had originally promised his actual client; a sorority girl, her friends, and their lethargic partners. He compensated for the wait with individual pictures with the group, as well as his good old classic front-flips. The crowd was understanding, which was good for him. They clapped to the beat and cheered him on when he transitioned into the forward and reverse worm. Throughout the visit, Bokuto's mind couldn't help but wander back to apartment 129. He wondered what Akaashi was up to. Did he dig in without him? That was fine, he could probably pick up the pizza and lead, however it would be nice to sit down with the guy so they could talk about whatever. It would be quite pleasant, he thought. 

_Would it be rude if I asked for a wing? He only got six._

Quickly after the lack of focus, he corrected himself and dived back into the show. The finale proved to the group why he'd be keeping his spot for Employee of the Month for at least another season.

When he had collected his tips and wished them goodnight, Bokuto was exhausted. Akaashi's apartment wasn't too far away, but the walk felt ten times further than the walk to apartment 129. He knocked on the door once, hoping he wasn't too late and that Akaashi wasn't an early sleeper. Luckily, Akaashi cracked open the door before Bokuto turned to the elevator. "Sorry, I was unpacking. Come in."

Bokuto asked Akaashi what he had been up to, and if he was doing alright moving in. He said that he had spent that hour doing productive human being things and sipping on a glass of water meaning to hold him off until dinner, among other things. The water was also supposed to rehydrate his cells after all the nerve-charged sweat he collected under his hoodie. He had even changed into another one, but they were similar enough in color. Bokuto didn't notice the difference, so it was a tiny detail that Akaashi had more than enough willpower to keep to himself.

As they sat down and talked, the mood was much lighter. They got to complain about their daily lives and laugh about it. Bokuto showed off some moves, to which Akaashi replied with the robot. He was one of the worst dancers Bokuto had ever seen in his life, but then again, he mostly knew DJs and strippers either full time, for fun, or in pursuit of a master's degree. They split the pizza and Akaashi divided up the wings so that each person had both a drumstick and a wingette. 

Bokuto was right; the time with Akaashi was very nice. To Kuroo Tetsurou, you are the man of the hour.

"Bokuto-san, can you pass the wing sauce?"

"Of course!"

Maybe it was the wrong apartment, but that special moment with his newly favorite not-client told him that for Saturday it was the right one. And for Akaashi, sure, that day's delivery wasn't at all what he expected.

Nevertheless, he wanted another slice of whatever the hell was on that pizza. 

And the guy who impersonated its delivery.

[The end]

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading 'halfsies'! I traded a good sliver of my soul writing about "the worm" (and almost everything else). Comments on my work are greatly appreciated. I love to hear from you guys, and have a lovely March. 
> 
> Find my Twitter [here.](https://twitter.com/solarmye)


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